


hello, you're alright.

by CastielTheAngel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fifth Year Albus Severus Potter, Implied Crush, Implied Good Draco Malfoy, Implied Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter, Kind Scorpius Malfoy, M/M, Oneshot, Prefect Scorpius Malfoy, Sad and Happy, Short & Sweet, Shy Albus Severus Potter, Sixth Year Scorpius Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-30 13:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastielTheAngel/pseuds/CastielTheAngel
Summary: Scorpius’s head turns attentively when a melancholy whine echos in the supposedly empty bathroom. The noise is immediately followed by a distressed whimper, a sob? Scorpius’s blue-grey eyes search the vast room for the source of the sound. He follows the little sniffles to the farthest shower from the door.orScorpius Malfoy finally properly meets Albus Potter in the bathrooms after five years of not socializing with the boy.





	

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  1. this may have posted twice, my internet is acting up...  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Sixth year!Prefect!Scorpius Malfoy, meet shy fifth year!Albus Potter! Who probably has a bit of a crush on him! Yay for drabbles! _~~(except this is more of a poorly constructed oneshot **just for practice** but hushhhh, nobody's paying attention...)~~_
> 
> I strayed away from my headcanon (I like to think Al is usually a prickly lil cactus who's at least slightly irritated at almost all times heh) and made Al a smol timid cinnamon roll, so if you don't like smol timid cinnamon roll!Albus then this probably isn't the fic for you. ;w;
> 
> This was poorly revised because I've been feeling extra lazy lately, so there will probably be a few typos and grammatical errors. Definitely feel free to point them out so I can fix them! (:

     Scorpius’s head turns attentively when a melancholy whine echos in the supposedly empty bathroom. The noise is immediately followed by a distressed whimper, a sob? Scorpius’s blue-grey eyes search the vast room for the source of the sound. He follows the little sniffles to the farthest shower from the door.  
     The curtain is drawn back, leading Scorpius to believe the occupant in the stall is at least half decent. He’s careful to peek first just in case, not wanting to intrude on someone if said person is still dressing. The boy perched upon the levitating bench is, in fact, wearing black trousers, thankfully. He’s bent across his thighs with his chest practically in his own lap. Scorpius can’t tell who it is because he’s got his face in his hands and his floppy, wet hair shades his forehead. Scorpius does realize that the lad is a Slytherin; green robes are lain across the bench next to the brunette.

     Scorpius knocks gently on the side of the stall to alert the upset lad of his presence. He instantaneously identifies his Housemate as Albus Potter, a shy fifth year with whom Scorpius hasn’t yet conversed. Albus’s eyes widen as he lifts his head, straightening up abruptly. He doesn’t bother to wipe his eyes; he’s already been caught.

     “I’m sorry, were you waiting for the shower? I’ll go, just let me…” Albus breathes apologetically. He stands up, reaching to slip into the wrinkled white button-up that droops from the coat hanger fused to the tiled wall. Scorpius’s eyes shamefully sweep down the younger Slytherin’s torso as he stretches. He’s a bit smaller than Scorpius.  
      He's bloody _fit_. Albus has nice curves, something he’d never noticed about the boy who’s normally cowering beneath robes that look two sizes too big, perhaps hand-me-downs from his father. Albus is not particularly muscular, either, but the faint outlines of what could become proper abs- given a good weekly workout or perhaps some Quidditch training- are not invisible. Scorpius himself is a bit narrower in width, but he makes up for his thin limbs in height.

     “I wasn’t waiting for the shower. I heard crying. Besides, there's ten other stalls in here. I wouldn't kick you out of yours.” Scorpius says gently. Bloody hell, that’s the first time he’s ever heard Albus Potter speak. Of course Albus _does_  speak, but not often enough around Scorpius for the prefect to notice. His voice is entirely fitting to his appearance; it’s soft- sweet like honey, and just kind of perfect, to be completely and utterly honest.

     Albus looks up from his buttons at Scorpius’s words. His hands quiver slightly.

     “Was it annoying? I’m sorry,” The shorter lad rapidly begins to express his regrets once again. Scorpius frowns and holds out his hand, gesturing for the boy to stop before he even starts. Albus promptly shuts his mouth and looks down, apprehensively studying the tiled floor beneath his sock-clad feet.

     “I was curious. I don’t like it when people are sad. You seemed as though you could use come company, or reassurance at the very least.” Scorpius says honestly. He tilts his head and takes a cautious step towards Albus, as if the boy is a frightened stag about to flee. Albus’s eyes widen in alarm when Scorpius advances forward carefully, but he doesn’t look up from the floor.

     “Sit back down. ‘S alright,” Scorpius bends to seat himself on the bench and Albus immediately follows. His nervously twitching limbs don’t go unnoticed, but Scorpius doesn’t mention it.

     “Albus, right? Potter? I’m Scorpius Malfoy. I don’t believe we’ve properly spoken before.” Scorpius introduces lightheartedly. Albus looks up with parted lips as a hand sticks itself under his nose. He reaches for the pale specimen tentatively, fingers trembling in shock as Scorpius’s hand locks around his.

     “You know my name?” Albus squeaks when the brief shake ends and their appendages are drawn apart. Scorpius nods, raising a brow incredulously. He inspects Albus’s face, having never gotten the chance to actually see the boy so close until now. His freckled cheeks are painted a lovely, timid shade of pink, and he has round emerald eyes that still hold on to the remaining innocence akin to those of a doe.

     “Of course I know your name. I’ve known your name since first year. We’ve just never spoken until now.” Scorpius says. An odd expression graces his face. Surely Albus doesn’t think so lowly of himself that he’d figured the bloody prefect of his own _House_ wouldn’t even know who he was?

     “Would you care to enlighten me and tell me why you’re so down?” Scorpius softens his tone as he looks down at Albus. Albus bites his lower lip between his teeth and looks uncertain for a moment. Scorpius can hardly blame the boy. They’ve only just met and he may as well be asking Albus to pour out his heart, for all he knows.

     “It’s really little and stupid. I… I scored poorly on an assessment in Transfiguration last week.” Albus sniffles quietly. “It was so simple too. We only had to turn several birds into water goblets, but…” Albus pauses for a moment. His face flushes even redder as he appears to contemplate his next words. Scorpius smiles sympathetically as he patiently waits.

     “I got nervous and accidentally turned one of mine into a cat. It freaked out and attacked some of the other students’ birds.”

     “Don't be silly; that’s not a stupid reason to be upset.” Scorpius responds with a frown. Albus reluctantly drags his eyes to Scorpius’s face.

     “It does get a bit old when people keep hexing cat limbs onto their own bodies and making Albus Paw-tter jokes whenever I walk in…” Albus murmurs quietly. “I’m never gonna live this down.” He threads his fingers through the fairly long, rapidly drying brunette locks atop his head. Scorpius’s levels of expressed disapproval increase significantly.

     “People are making fun of you? Who?” Scorpius asks seriously, concern alight in his eyes. _Merlin’s beard, Scorpius, calm down!_ Scorpius mentally smacks himself for being so overprotective. He’s only _just_ properly met Albus and he already feels some sort of intense obligation- _which is entirely unnecessary,_ might he note- to keep the boy safe.

     “It’s just my brother… and a few other Gryffindors and Slytherins…” Albus says. His voice lowers considerably as he speaks. Scorpius’s fingers tighten, clenching over his palm, and he hides them from Albus’s view.

     “That’s horrible of them. Love, if this has been going on for nearly a week now, why haven’t you reported it to a teacher?” Scorpius asks. He completely disregards the pet name he bestows upon the boy whose cheeks are warm and pink, as if it’s a term of endearment that he’s always used. Scorpius is an overly friendly person; he uses kind titles when he addresses people quite often. Albus shrugs sheepishly as he ogles Scorpius through the damp strands of hair that threaten to hide his eyes.

     “Surely you don’t think you should just undergo the torment silently,” Scorpius breathes sadly. Albus doesn’t respond.

     “Unfortunately I can’t do much about the Gryffindors other than put in a good word with either the head boy or the head girl that their housemates are acting out, but I most certainly can and _will_ put our Slytherins in their place.” Scorpius promises firmly. He reaches to rest a tentative hand on Albus’s thigh. He can feel the muscles beneath the boy’s trousers tense for a moment, but Albus makes no move to retaliate.

     “You’re so nice in person.” Albus’s voice is barely above a whisper now, and he sounds rather awestruck.

     “Yeah?” Scorpius smiles a little and Albus straightens up completely, eyes wide and shocked.

     “Did I just say that aloud?” He worries. Scorpius can’t help but chuckle at the boy’s ability to endear him so quickly.

     “ ‘S alright. Did you think otherwise?” He asks lightly. Albus averts his shifty eyes and he messes with the hem of his button-up for a moment.

     “I wouldn’t be offended. ‘Malfoy’ isn’t exactly recognized as a positive title, given my family’s past associations... loyalties and such.” Scorpius supplies easily. He realizes that Albus may find it awkward to address the situation up-front, but Scorpius doesn’t mind at all. By now, he’s accepted who he is and who he belongs to. Besides, his father _had_ had the decency to raise Scorpius as kindly as he could manage after his own irreversibly horrid childhood.  
     Scorpius is familiar with his father’s former tendencies as a Hogwarts student, and he applauds the character development the elder Malfoy had undergone to become the slightly softer man he currently is.

     “N- no! It’s not that. I mean, I’ve heard things, but, you’re not your grandparents, nor are you under their influence, so that would be completely unfair of me…” Albus counters swiftly and truthfully. “I just always thought of you as intimidating, I suppose. Because you’re a bit older, and a _prefect_ , no less…”

     “ _A bit_ ,” Scorpius agrees, “but you may be glad to know that I’m no one to be intimidated by. Feel free to come up to me and talk to me at any time.” He says kindly. Albus gazes at the platinum-headed prefect with spacious eyes. His pupils are blown wide and he looks as if he's in a trance, Scorpius notes oddly.

     “Thank you,” Albus replies, voice soft. He seems to realize that he’s staring and rapidly searches for something less significant to study.

     “Well, it’s getting dark. We should probably get back to the dormitories before Professor Filch catches you out of bed. Only the head girls and boys are allowed out after ten.” Scorpius reminds. He stands up and pokes his head out from the stall to check the large clock at the other end of the room. He turns and offers a hand to Albus. Albus slowly accepts the assistance and rises as Scorpius tugs on his arm.

     “Come on then,” Scorpius murmurs, patting Albus on the back as they leave the washroom.


End file.
